In four words I bet I can make your stomach twist.

“We need to talk.”

Whether it’s a confrontation with a friend, an impending breakup, a Teams message from HR, or the call for a family meeting, these four words will stop just about anyone in their tracks and bring to mind everything they’ve ever done wrong in their life.

I had so many of those conversations in 2024 it’s not even funny.

I started one when a former friend crossed some serious boundaries. Unfortunately we don’t talk anymore.

Another one began with a friend sitting on my couch at 10:00 at night and saying her stomach hurt from even bringing it up. That conversation ended with hugs and nearly some tears. It healed us.

The others all had varying levels of trauma and differing outcomes, but one in particular had me on my knees in Adoration at a local Catholic church.

I was praying like I never had before about the conversation, asking God for guidance and wisdom, hands clenched together in stress. Although I’m sure it hardly compares, for a brief moment I recalled Jesus in Gethsemane, sweating blood and begging God to take the cup of suffering from him.

Then he brought another story to mind: raising Lazarus from the dead.

I’ve read the scripture a zillion times (and by that I mean like a handful) so I thought I was familiar with it. But when I opened up my Bible something struck me for the first time: Jesus was close with Lazarus and his family. They knew who he was, what he was capable of. This is at a point in his ministry where the news of his miracles is spreading across the region. In fact, Lazarus’ sisters greet Jesus with the bold claim, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died.” They were well aware of Jesus’ power.

But when Jesus visits the grave and demands they roll away the stone, Martha (oh thoughtful, logical Martha that stays busy when Jesus comes to visit) tries to stop him. She says that since Lazarus has been dead for four days, there will be an odor, and he shouldn’t open the grave.

Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah, the miracle worker, is about to raise her brother from the dead and she stops him. She begs him not to. Because it might smell when he does.

And there I was, on my knees, begging not to have a “we need to talk” conversation with someone because it meant opening up a grave and letting out the rot. It was going to smell when it all went down, and I would rather have run away to Canada and made a new identity for myself than face that open grave.

But it’s only when the grave is open that the dead can be raised, that what’s broken may be healed.

Do you know what Jesus said to Martha when she tried to stop him?

“Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”” (John 11:40)

If you believe, you too will see the glory of God. But it might mean cracking open a grave. It might mean facing death before you see resurrection. It might mean being hit with the stench of decay as you square up to the reality of your brokenness.

Jesus is the resurrection and the life. He came to raise the dead and give us life abundantly.

And if you’re wondering, the grave I had to crack open smelled awful. But on the other side, there was new life. I promise you that.